


lost hope, missed chances

by knameless



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knameless/pseuds/knameless
Summary: set several years after party poison died.





	lost hope, missed chances

It's not that Fun Ghoul was especially hard to find. It's just that Jet had been too afraid, too proud to try. But now… he's just tired of holding on to everything, especially old grudges. What he really wants is to say goodbye.

Ghoul's living in an apartment in Zone 2 now. According to the people Jet's talked to, he mostly does odd jobs and kicks around grungy bars, drinking a lot and not talking to anyone.

Jet stands in front of the dingy door, painted a chipped, dull yellow, for a very long time, trying to gather his nerves and prepare himself. He knocks.

When Ghoul opens the door, Jet feels like he's been kicked in the chest. Ghoul doesn't really look that much different. A little older, yeah, a little gaunter, darker circles under his eyes. His hair is longer than Jet's ever seen it, and it's mostly a mess of dark tangles. But the change that shocks Jet is his eyes. They didn't look that empty, that dull, the last time Jet saw him. Jet feels an ache, deep in his heart. Why did it all have to happen like this?

Ghoul looks absolutely stunned to see him, his mouth dropping open into an 'O’ as he stares at Jet.

“You cut your hair,” he says, finally.

Jet self-consciously passes a hand over his head, almost surprised to feel the short curls under his fingers. He still sometimes tries to brush phantom strands from his eyes, out of habit. “Yeah. Needed a change.”

There’s another pause. Finally Jet clears his throat. “Can I come in?” He half expects Ghoul to say no, to slam the door in his face, but Ghoul just nods slowly and steps back to let Jet inside.

Jet shoves his hands deep into his pockets and looks around the room. It's tiny, and bare of furnishings except for a single cot and a rickety-looking table with two even more rickety-looking chairs. Ghoul is rummaging in a bag on the bed, and turns around with a banged-up bottle in his hands.

“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Ghoul says hoarsely. “I really think I need it.”

“Actually, I'm pretty sure I could use one too,” Jet manages.

Ghoul nods and produces a pair of dusty glasses from somewhere. He sets them on the table, pours one for him, one for Jet, and sits down heavily. After a few seconds, Jet sits across from him.

“'S’been a while,” Ghoul says, considering Jet over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah,” Jet agrees. “It has.”

“So what have you been doing?” Ghoul asks. “Set up with a new crew?”

Jet shakes his head. “No, I could never do that.” Ghoul nods, and Jet continues, “Mostly I run messages now. Courier-type stuff. Sold some shit I didn't need anymore, bought a motorbike.”

“You sold the car?” Ghoul asks.

“No.” It wasn't Jet's to sell. “I gave it to Pony and the Doctor. Figured that's what he would have wanted.”

“Probably what he would have wanted was for us to keep it,” Ghoul says, staring into his glass.

Jet stares into his own. “Yeah, probably.”

He takes a sip of the stuff Ghoul poured for him and it makes his eyes water, it's so strong. Ghoul doesn't seem to mind it, though. “What about you?” Jet asks.

Ghoul flashes him an empty smile, so different from the ones Jet remembers. Those ones made you feel sunny inside, made you wanna grin with him ‘til your skull popped open. This one mostly just makes Jet’s throat twinge.

“Not much. Drinking, fucking. You know. Trying to forget things,” Ghoul says with a bitter laugh.

Jet takes another sip of his drink so he doesn't do something stupid like hug Ghoul. Ghoul asks him questions about people-- Pony, Dr. Death, Cherri, Hot Chimp-- and Jet answers them. He's a little sad to realize that Ghoul hasn't had contact with any of their old friends since he left. He wonders how bad Ghoul's really been.

Ghoul goes silent for another few moments, tapping at his glass, and Jet knows what he's going to ask before he says it.

“You seen Kobra Kid around?” Ghoul ventures, like he knows the answer already but has to ask the question anyway.

“No,” Jet says. Kobra skipped out about a month after it happened. He just disappeared. Left a note that told them nothing, took his bike. Took the jacket. Jet and Ghoul had wanted to burn it with the body, but Kobra didn't let them. He kept it with him in his bag, and then he took it with him when he rode off alone into the desert. They kept waiting for him to come back. He never did.

It wasn't long after that before Jet and Ghoul started fighting, about what happened, about Kobra, about raising a kid in the unforgiving desert. Ghoul lost the fight, in the end. And then it was just Jet and--

“Baby,” Ghoul starts. “How is she?”

“She's great,” Jet says, smiling a little. “She's incredible.” His smile drops. “I-- I left her with Dr. Death and Show Pony last. I couldn't really take care of her on my own like I thought. I mean… I visit her, whenever I can. She’s doing fine there.”

“That's good,” Ghoul says. He wipes his eyes on the back of his wrist. “She's in good hands.”

“She doesn't seem to want to talk to me that much anymore though,” Jet says sadly. “I don't think she forgives me.”

“Does she ever ask about me?” Ghoul says in a small voice.

Jet shakes his head. “If she does, she doesn't ask me.”

There's another long pause.

Jet finally gets the guts to ask what he's been wondering. “Were you-- were you in love with him? I know you two, like…” He trails off.

Ghoul shakes his head. “It wasn't like that.” Then he seems to change his mind. “I mean… I think we were all a little in love with him, you know?”

Yeah, Jet knows.

Ghoul stares into his drink. “You ever feel like we were meant for something bigger than this? Like he was supposed to take us there. And we lost our chance when we lost him.”

“Yeah,” Jet says quietly. “All the time.” All the goddamn time.

“He always thought we'd save the world, but we couldn't even save him,” Ghoul says bitterly.

He knocks back the rest of his drink. “I'm thinking of joining up with this one crew for a raid next week. They're going deep in the city, gonna see if they can make it to the nest. It's a suicide mission, but,” he smiles hollowly, “it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Jet picks up his own glass and swirls it around a little, watching the liquid move in a tiny whirlpool. He puts it down.

“I'm gonna go to the belt,” he says. “Just gonna pack up some stuff and see how far out I can get. Who knows,” he says, smiling wanly, “Maybe I'll run into Kobra.”

Ghoul looks at him. “What if there's nothing out there?”

Jet tips back his head to gaze at the cracked ceiling. “But what if there is?”

Ghoul nods. Maybe, after all these years, he finally gets it.

Jet stands up. “I'm sorry. For everything. For making you feel like you had to leave, for not being able to keep everyone together afterwards. I'm sorry for not being able to save him.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Ghoul says softly, and Jet can tell that this time he really means it. He stands up too, puts a hand on Jet's arm. “It wasn't.”

Jet feels his throat tighten, feels tears pricking at his eyes. He swallows and rubs at his face with a hand. “Yeah.”

He turns towards the door, takes a couple steps towards it.

“I love you, fucker,” Ghoul chokes out from behind him. “And I love our girl and I love Kobra, if he's even still alive.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “And I loved Party Poison.”

Jet stops, turns around. “So did I,” he says, and it hurts just to say his name, but he does it anyway. “I miss Party so goddamn much.”

Ghoul runs a hand through his hair and sits back down in his chair. He looks up at Jet, and Jet can see he's crying, too. “When he died, he took bits of us with him, you know?”

Yeah, Jet knows.

In a few strides he's back in front of Ghoul, and he leans down and gathers Ghoul's frail form into his arms. Ghoul clings to him like a dying man. Maybe he is. Maybe Jet is, too.

After a few minutes, Ghoul disentangles himself and stares up at Jet. “I’m sorry,” he says miserably. “It wasn't supposed to end up like this, to all fall apart. He wasn't supposed to die without us.”

He wipes his nose on his sleeve. “So you're still going. Past Zone 6.”

“Yeah,” Jet answers. “I have to.”

“Go chase your fucking stars, then,” Fun Ghoul says with a hiccupy laugh. “If there's someone out there after all, tell them I said hi.”

“I will,” Jet says, and smiles. “See you around, Fun Ghoul.”

“You won't,” Ghoul says.

Jet shrugs. "One of us has gotta keep hoping.”

Ghoul looks at him steadily. “Good luck, Jet Star.”

Jet nods once, and then he walks out the door again, turning his back on Ghoul for the last time.


End file.
